


Forbidden to Die

by ChiaraRose



Series: Win Lives [4]
Category: The Trixie Belden Mysteries - Julie Campbell Tatham & Kathryn Kenny
Genre: F/M, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-31
Updated: 2018-08-31
Packaged: 2019-07-05 00:33:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15852606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChiaraRose/pseuds/ChiaraRose
Summary: This story is for the Jiximetri CWE 17, where a Bob-White gets kicked out of a public venue. Guess who gets kicked out their ex's wedding reception?In this universe, Win Frayne is alive and living with his son Jim at Ten Acres, which did not burn. The Wheelers did not adopt Jim.





	Forbidden to Die

At his phone's shriek, Jim Frayne mumbled a curse and rolled over in bed. He checked the caller and sighed. "Good thing you're my best friend, Trix. Otherwise I'd be really upset at your waking me at the crack of dawn on the last day of vacation."

"Good morning, Mr. Co-prez." Trixie Belden's voice kept breaking up, dropping syllables and words. "Crack of dawn? I'm on my way to church. Mom likes us to go together, when we're all home. I guess you're not going?"

Jim frowned. Trixie's voice sounded anxious as though she were kidnapped--or trapped in the car with her family and unable to speak frankly. Trying to shake off sleep, he replied, "No. I was going to sleep in and have lunch ready for Dad and Margery when they get back." He couldn’t resist a sarcastic aside. "Thanks again."

"You can sleep when you're dead. Right now, I need you to go look for Honey. I went by our clubhouse, but then I had to come back and get ready for church."

Jim yawned. "Did you have a fight with Honey?"

"No. I just need to make sure she heard about the meeting at my house at 1:00. I was on the phone with her, and then I didn't hear any sound, like the call dropped. I hung up and tried to call her back and didn't get an answer. I left a message and sent a text, but it's really important that she be there. So can you go find her?" Trixie's voice was growing fainter, the static louder.

"Why should I go out and tramp around in the snow when you'll probably see her at church in 10 minutes? And do I need to be at this meeting?"

"No. Just girls. And if I see her at church, I'll text you. Please, Jim. I'm worried about her." Jim sat up straight in bed. "Why?"

But Trixie's answer was too faint and missing too many words for him to make sense of it. Before he could ask her again, the call dropped. Jim scowled. He knew that cell-hellish spot on the way into Sleepyside where calls always got lost. He threw off the covers and pulled on the nearest clothes. If Honey was in trouble, of course he'd help her.

When he tapped on the door at the end of the hall and walked in, he told himself he was being thorough. It was Honey's bedroom, assigned to her after Winthrop Frayne married Margery Trask last summer. After the wedding, Margery continued all her jobs for the Wheeler family, including: estate manager and governess-companion to Honey Wheeler, though the latter wasnecessary only when her parents were traveling. Margery solved that issue by setting up a bedroom for Honey at Ten Acres, just two doors down from Jim's room. Fortunately, now that he was in college, he was home mostly around holidays, when the Wheelers made an effort to be home too. He couldn't sleep a wink with the girl he loved so near.

When he first realized he loved her, she was dating fellow Bob-White Brian Belden. Last summer, Brian and Honey broke up, but Jim hadn't been home much, between school and interning. He thought he should give her time to recover. After all, Brian was the only boy she'd ever dated. This year she'd gone to the dances with other Sleepyside seniors, but she didn't seem attached to any of them. Jim had watched her through this Thanksgiving holiday and hoped that maybe by Christmas, he might ask her on a real date.

The moment the door opened, it was obvious she wasn't in her bedroom. Still, he stood there a few seconds, inhaling the scents from her perfume and makeup and looking around at her books, sewing machine, and stuffed animals. He told himself he was looking for clues, though nothing seemed to have been disturbed since his arrival last Wednesday, when he'd also looked in.

He stopped downstairs only long enough to whip up waffle batter so that he'd have something to serve Dad and Margery. Thanksgiving leftovers could be the rest of the meal. Then he shrugged himself into winter gear. After an unsuccessful call and text to Honey's cell phone, he set out on his mission.

Trixie said she'd looked in the clubhouse, which would have been his first guess. After swinging by Manor House to confirm that Honey's car sat still and cold in the driveway, he turned towards the lake. Winter had blanketed Glen Road, and the snow was like the Christmas carol said: "Deep and crisp and even." He spoiled the evenness with his fleece-lined boots, but crunching through the snow made a satisfying sound. Being outdoors always sent his spirits soaring.

He was less satisfied by the time he made it around the lake and halfway down the bridle path. Cold seeped its way through his coat and gloves. He tried calling again, to no avail, and had a similar experience when he rang the Manor House doorbell. The maid Celia said no one was at home. As he walked away, Jim cast a glance at the long line of windows, upstairs and downstairs. Celia worked back in the kitchen, and Jim could see how easy it would be for people to conceal themselves in other parts of the house.

Hoping Honey would look out the window, if she were inside, he scuffed through the snow on the front lawn, making paths that from the second story would read "Honey, call me. J."

He glanced toward the Bob-White clubhouse, the Manor House's old gatehouse. Trixie said she'd checked there, but that had to be nearly an hour ago. Somehow the little building pulled him closer.

He pushed open the door and reached for the flashlight they kept on a nearby shelf, but it was gone. "Honey?" he called.

No answer came through the silence, but he felt like he wasn't alone. He edged toward the center of the room in the dim speckled light through Honey's plaid curtains on the windows. His gaze took in the picnic table in the center of the room, the skis and skates more or less organized in one corner, and then the pile of sleeping bags and blankets in the opposite corner. Something about the shape of that pile made him flick on his phone light and move closer.

He dropped to his knees. "Honey?" he repeated as he put out his hand to touch the golden hair almost hidden by a blanket and a woolly hat.

Honey raised her head and twisted toward him. Her face was swollen and blotchy with tears and dirt.

"We were worried about you, Trixie and me. Is something wrong?"

Honey gulped back tears. "Didn't Trixie tell you?"

"She just said she was trying to tell you about a meeting at Crabapple Farm at 1:00, but she wasn't sure you heard, and then she couldn't find you."

"Oh." Honey turned away and hunched her shoulders. "So what's wrong? Did she say something to hurt your feelings? You know she didn't mean it--you know how Trixie is. She still says all these things without thinking, no matter how hard she tries not to."

"No, she didn't. Say anything, I mean. I mean, she didn't say it mean. Well, she never does. But she didn't know...or she didn't think..."

Jim pulled out one of the blankets to make a seat for himself, close enough that he could put an arm around Honey's shoulders. Knowing her as he did, he expected a long, tortuous story. She pressed her head against his chest, e could feel her sobbing, though she didn't make a sound.

She sniffled. "Brian's getting married. Last summer when we talked, he said he didn't have time for a relationship. I was fine with that. I went to the back-to-school dance with Tad and to Homecoming with Jerry Vanderhoef, and I had fun, but I always thought that Brian and I would get back together later, and someday I'd be Mrs. Brian Belden, when he didn't have so much to worry about with school. But Trixie called this morning to say that he's getting married after this semester--three weeks away!"

Jim's green eyes widened in shock. He rocked her close, trying to be a comforting friend rather than the lover he wanted to be. The only thing he could think to say was, "Good grief! Why's he getting married now? He's not even two years through his bachelor's degree."

She raised her head and wiped her wet cheeks, creating new swirls of dirt. "Well, golly, why do think? Why do people suddenly decide to get married at inconvenient, stupid times?"

He'd never heard so much bitterness from those lips, usually sweet as her name. It made him angry all over again at Brian. When they first went to college, he'd been upset at how Brian ignored Honey. Jim had been glad he and Brian hadn't lived together this year--Brian roomed with his brother on one side of the campus, and Jim and Dan shared a dinky apartment on the other side. That was like being across a fair-sized town from each other. Next semester, they were all supposed to move into an old house. Jim wondered if Brian would be bringing his wife there.

"He didn't have time for a relationship, but he had time to--" Honey abandoned herself to tears again. "I keep wondering if I'd--you know--done it, would he have stayed with me?"

"What? No. Don’t even think that." He worked for a minute to calm himself."If he had, it would have been for all the wrong reasons. And how long would the relationship last anyway?"

She hid her head. "I'm just not--I don't know--ready. I know other people are. Gosh, maybe most people my age are. But if I really loved him, wouldn't I be?"

"Guys have been using that argument for a long time, but don't let yourself be talked into something. You've probably seen how that works out."

Honey nodded as she concentrated on tracing the blanket's plaid pattern with one finger. "But I almost think it would be better than putting on Brian's wedding."

"Honey, no one expects you to do that."

"Oh, don't they? That's what the 1:00 meeting is about, to plan how we can put on a wedding in three weeks."

Jim was still for a moment. "That's not fair. They should know better."

"How? We both explained our breakup so reasonably. We vowed eternal friendship and...and..." She put her head down and sobbed again. "Trixie thinks I should make Loyola's wedding dress because I did such a good job on Miss Trask's--Margery's."

Jim smiled, remembering that glorious day when he, Honey, and Miss Trask's siblings stood up for his dad and Miss Trask at their wedding last summer. "It was a beautiful dress, but she was like another mother to you, not your ex-boyfriend's new girl-- wait, Loyola? Really?"

"It makes sense. You know how much they worked together in high school, and I always thought...I wondered...I was right, I guess." She gulped and snorted as she rummaged for a tissue in her pockets.

Jim remembered the thin, African-American girl who moved to Sleepyside after her parents died. Despite the number of science projects she and Brian worked on together, she seemed determined to overtake his position at the head of the class, a problem solved when they were made co-valedictorians. Jim set his jaw. "If you don't want to say anything, _I'll_ tell Trixie, just give her a hint--you know, the kind of hint with a sledgehammer that Trixie always needs--that working on Brian's wedding would be painful for you."

Honey pulled herself up straight, throwing off her covers. She shook her head and coughed the cloud of dust she raised. "No. Because I want to be the kind of person who _could_ make a wedding dress for her ex's wedding, to wish him well, let him go gracefully. I'm not that person right now, but the only way to be her is to go ahead and act like her, if you see what I mean."

"It's a bit convoluted, but like all Honey-speak, it makes perfect sense. Look, why don't I come to the meeting too?"

Honey shook her head with glimmers of a smile. "Trixie said her mother wants a girls' meeting. Then we'll give the guys their assignments. Do you really want to sit around for hours discussing wedding colors, clothes, and flowers? We're going to be doing everything. Loyola's too busy, with finals looming. She’s still the studying beast she always was, and remember, her only family is her grandfather."

Jim blenched, but said in brave tones, "To support you, I'd endure even that. But if they don't want guys, how about Margery? I don't know if she's been invited, but they certainly wouldn't turn her away."

Honey put her arms around him and squeezed. "Jim, what a perfectly perfect idea! I'll send her a text." She pulled her phone from her coat pocket to make it so.

"She's in church, so she won't get it right away. Why don't you come over for lunch, and the two of you can walk to Crabapple farm afterwards?"

Honey continued to look down as she put her phone away. "I'd rather not, Jim. I don't mind if you tell her, but I can't be brave if I keep talking about how upset I am."

"Okay, on one condition: that you do find someone to talk to when it gets too much for you. _Before_ it gets too much for you. That includes me, even if ribbons and bows and all that stuff is part of it. You have a lot of people who care about you, and I expect you to let them help you. No stiff upper lip from you, my girl. Not with me anyway." He joined her in folding and replacing the blankets and sleeping bags.

"Okay. I promise. And Jim?" Turning her back to put away a stack of blankets, Honey swallowed and then rushed her words together. "Jim, would you go to the prom with me next spring?"

Jim grinned in delight. "I'd love to, on one condition." 

You and your conditions!"

"If you find someone magical, you'll break our date and go with him." Surely by the prom, he could tell her how he felt, if she didn't find someone else first.

Honey laughed. Slivers of the noon sun snuck past her curtains to throw golden glints on her hair. "Oh, Jim, how could anybody be more magical than you? It would just be so comfortable, since we already know each other so well. And all the adventures we’ve had together, I can’t imagine how anybody else--and I don't want to spend all these months worrying about getting a date. I've been going to big events with people in my class, and I'm going with Nick to the Winter Formal next week--but guys always want to keep dating, and I just don't want to, with all the things I have to do to get ready for college. I just want...I just want to do things with my friends."

Jim's heart sank. _She said friends_. He tried for a light note. "It's almost required, isn't it? I took Trixie to my junior prom and Diana to my senior prom. It's only right that I take you to a prom too. But remember your promise."

Honey giggled. "I promise to dump you for the first magical person I meet. Since that won't happen, be sure to reserve a tux for April. Have you ever dated anyone besides Bob-Whites?"

"Yes." For an eon or two, Jim didn't say anything else. He remembered that summer after graduation when he worked at Crimpers, when Miss Darcy the drama teacher did too, to save for her plane ticket back to England. He didn't mention that day when she smiled and said, "You can call me Eileen now. You're not a student any more, but a young man who happens to work at the same place I do, in a different department." He’d never told anyone, even though they’d nothing legally wrong--he was eighteen, and he’d never been Eileen’s student. Maybe it was like his father said when he examined a company’s books: "There’s legal, there’s moral, and there’s smart, and those aren’t always the same thing."

Jim wasn’t going to talk about the girls he dated in his first year of college either. Some (like Honey's dates) wanted more right away, and some (like Eileen) wanted temporary amusement that left him feeling empty. Both kinds of encounters left him dreaming of a golden-haired girl with beautiful hazel eyes. He stayed so quiet that Honey gave him a puzzled look. He finally added, "I like dating Bob-Whites best, because I know them so well and have loved them for so long. It did take me awhile to learn that friends don't automatically mean life partners, but friends will always be important to me."

"Oh, me too! I've never thought of home as a building. Home is with people I love." She hugged him around the waist again before stepping outside into the light. "We'll have a wonderful prom, I promise. I'm so glad that's settled!"

#

Jim made it home just as his father and stepmother returned from church. By the time they had cast off their church clothes, he had steaming waffles ready with sides of cranberry sauce, dressing, and bacon. He knew better than to set out left-over turkey: they were old enough to consider chicken and waffles appalling. When he explained Honey's cryptic text, Win and Margery both looked sad at Brian's rushed wedding. His heart warmed when Margery immediately wanted to go to Honey. He and his father convinced her to finish lunch first.

He had to set out for school before Margery returned, but he sent a brief text to Honey after he loaded his car. "OK?" he wrote.

"K," replied Honey.

Back at school, Jim tried to avoid Brian. He didn't want his anger boiling over. Fortunately, they didn't have classes together, and they didn’t share an apartment any more. In fact, unless he looked at the common Bob-White channels, with both Brian and Mart on the other side of campus and Dan seldom saying anything unless someone else spoke first, he was able to avoid all mention of the wedding.

Jim knew his feelings weren't reasonable. In fact, he wouldn't wave a magic wand to make Brian love Honey. Jim wanted her to love him. But she was hurt, and he couldn't help being mad at anyone who hurt her. He didn't like to think about it, but he'd had chances to be in Brian's position. How would Trixie have felt, if he'd announced a sudden wedding? She'd probably be more scornful than hurt. She wasn't dreaming of being Mrs. James Frayne some day.

Studying for finals and writing papers soon absorbed his time and mental energy. Though he sent an occasional email or text to Honey to let her know he was thinking of her, she just said that she was fine but very busy. Her annoyances expressed publicly seemed to be about finding marine-themed appliqués for the wedding dress and trying to match her efforts with the hat and veil that Diana was making. Trixie griped that with the boys at college, all the errands fell to her while every other female was eyebrow-deep in making things, whether from fabric, fake flowers, or food. All the girls agreed that Ms. Pearson, the woman in charge of the chapel, was a complete pain who objected to all their perfectly reasonable requests. Remembering years' worth of reasonable requests combining Honey and Di's artistic visions with Trixie's determination, Jim expressed brief sympathy in a noncommittal way.

There were moments when he felt he wouldn't survive school or would at least flunk out with all dishonor. He didn’t understand why Dan laughed at that idea. However, eventually he turned in the last test and returned to Sleepyside on the Friday afternoon before the wedding. Ten Acres was silent except for the purr of a sewing machine, which grew louder as he climbed the stairs. He loped down to his room to pitch his baggage on the bed before running back to Honey's room. Though the door was open, he tapped on the door frame. Honey looked up with a welcoming smile. He loved her casual look: jeans and shirt that always seemed newer and crisper than everybody else's, her hair snatched back into a ponytail--the better to display her hazel eyes and their flecks of color--and the barest hint of makeup, if any.

"There! Finished! I swear! I refuse to look at it one more time, or I'll find something else to fiddle with." She rose, her arms full of white velvet. She draped it over a shiny mannequin that seemed to be made of duct tape. Its head was a styrofoam wig stand impaled on a spike. The head wore a big nest of white satin and tulle, with sea creatures peeking out of the filmy netting.

"It _is_ made of duct tape," Honey confirmed. "We went to see Loyola right after the wedding meeting, and Di and I taped her up and then cut her out of the form so I could make sure the dress fit. We were going to make a wig head too, so Di could make the hat fit, but Loyola was afraid we'd get the tape stuck in her hair. So we took lots of measurements and bought a wig stand." She spread the tiny train, bedazzled with pearls, beads, and iridescent sequins highlighted the appliqués of seaweed, coral, fish, and other marine life.

Jim gaped. He knew Honey was a talented fabric artist, and he could see this dress was similar to the simple, straight dress with a scooped neck that Honey made for Margery's wedding. But the deep-pile, bright-white velvet gave it an entirely different look than the light organza of Margery's dress, and Honey had made the skirt flare from the knees--mermaid style, she said, because Loyola was studying to be a marine biologist. Around the lower skirt she'd used the palest pastel satin to make an underwater scene in appliqué and beads.

"Honey, I've never seen anything so beautiful," said Jim in all sincerity. "How did you ever have time to make it during finals?"

"Well, Mrs. Belden, Margery, Mrs. Lynch, Di, and even Trixie helped with the beading and appliqué," Honey said, picking at an errant pearl.

"Trixie certainly did, and don't think I don't know that you redid everything I put my hand to." Trixie Belden staggered through the bedroom door. She was mostly invisible under the plastic-bagged clothes she carried. She handed Jim his tuxedo for the wedding as she said, "Belden Delivery Service. Fortunately Sleepyside Formal knows all the male Bob-White sizes. Honey, here's your dress from the cleaners."

As she hung the shimmering gold formal in the closet, Honey explained to Jim, "We're all wearing the dresses we wore to the Winter Formal last week--lilac, gold, and blue. Trixie's maid of honor since Brian is her brother. Merry and Cherry Lynch will be flower girls, wearing their pink and pale green Christmas dresses. Bobby is the ring bearer, though he thinks he's too old for that, and Terry and Larry Lynch are the ushers. All the men are wearing tuxes, but each one with a different color shirt to match our dresses."

"Mine's not going to be shiny like your dress, is it?" Jim asked Honey.

"It's called 'iridescent,' Jim," instructed Trixie with a wicked grin. "No, we tried, knowing how you'd love to be all sparkly, but the closest thing Sleepyside Formal had was a pale yellow."

"Whew!" Jim rolled his eyes in relief.

Honey explained, "We're trying to make a theme out of sea creatures and plants, since we have so many colors. Your boutonnier is going to be sea horse, like the one in Loyola's seascape." She sighed. "If I had more time, I would have done more embroidery than appliqué."

Jim's eyes followed the dress' decorated hem. "I don't see how you did this much! It's gorgeous, Honey."

As usual, Honey deprecated her work. "Once I got the hang of working with velvet, everything went smoothly. It's basically the same dress I made for Margery, only in velvet with long sleeves and the mermaid flare."

"To keep with the under-the-sea theme." Jim smiled.

Honey said, "Exactly! I hope she likes it. She said she didn't care about anything, that we should just do whatever, but I can't help worrying."

"If she doesn't like it, she's beyond pleasing," declared Trixie. To the clattering footsteps on the stairs, she called, "Right, Di?"

Diana Lynch made her entrance, her wide violet eyes peering over frills, ruffles, and flowers. As usual, Jim wondered what role she was playing today. In the few weeks he'd dated her, he never felt like knew what play he was supposed to be part of. Di might sometimes have trouble learning her lines, but she always had a stage presence. Jim was more comfortable loving her from a distance as a fellow Bob-White.

Diana waved a handful of ribbons and sequins. "I have your fascinators."

"Oh, Di, really?" said Trixie in disgust as she took one between her thumb and forefinger. "You made a shell-and-anemone hat with seaweed to hang down my neck?"

"I'm sorry I didn't make an octopus hat for you," Diana shot back. "You'd have loved tentacles dangling over your shoulders. It was hard to resist, but I did."

Honey's voice was light but firm. "Trixie, who is our fashion maven?"

"Di, of course." Trixie scowled.

"And who is our assistant fashion maven?" Honey demanded. "That would be you." Trixie grudgingly acknowledged.

"And both Di and I think this is just the most adorable little hat ever." Honey set it on the right side of Trixie's head and stuck its bobby pins in hard.

"Ouch!"

Honey turned Trixie towards the full-length mirror by the door "See? It's just too cute for words. Remember all those years ago when you agreed to let Di and me have the last word on clothes for special occasions? Well, this is one. And Di and I think you look marvelous with all that seaweed hanging down to your shoulder."

"So do I," said Jim with a grin at the fuming Trixie.

Di added, as she made a face at Jim, "Not that it matters, but Jim agrees. Here's yours, Honey."

"Oh, I love it! That cunning little angel fish, with all that coral sticking up. And the seahorse! It goes perfectly with my dress. We're ready for a British royal wedding or Ascot opening day." Honey fastened it on her head and looked in the mirror. Jim thought she looked lovely and elegant, like she always did.

"I hate you all, especially Brian for doing this to me. Ouch." Trixie tried to shake her head while untangling her fascinator. "I can't wait to tell him so. He and Loyola should be home any minute now."

With a put-upon frown, Di said, "Well, they won't be. Loyola decided she wants braids. She's never had braids before. So after her last final, she went to a stylist and will be there for hours. They'll probably get here just in time for the rehearsal."

Honey cried, "Oh no! She has to try on her dress today. I need time to adjust it if it doesn't fit."

"Oh no," agreed Diana, grabbing the mannequin's hat. When she flopped it on her own head, the brim extended from one shoulder to the other, and the drooping feathers came to the top of Jim's head. Angel fish, star fish, seahorses, sea shells, and water flowers peeked through the feathers and carried the sea theme forward. "What if her hat doesn't fit over the braids? I called the stylist and gave her the measurements, but still. And she said that Loyola's hands look like she's been sticking them in mud. Which is exactly what she's been doing, you know, in her marine biology classes. The stylist says they're hopeless, better go with gloves. So I bought some short lace ones for Loyola and some long satin ones for the rest of us. Trixie, do _not_ stuff them in your jeans pocket! Honestly!"

Trixie shared a grin with Jim. "Okay, okay. I can't tell you how much I want this to be over."

"What was that poem we learned in English class? You definitely have 'miles to go before you sleep.' You need to go pick up the flowers and bring them to the chapel. Then you can help with the floral arrangements until the rehearsal."

"You're forgetting my total lack of artistic talent," objected Trixie. "That's why I'm Transportation and Logistics."

"You can green down. Anybody can green down. Bobby and all the twins are greening down as we speak, under your mother's supervision, I hope."

Trixie made a scornful noise.

To Jim, Di said, "Most of the flowers are actually evergreens, punctuated here and there with scrumptious white roses that Trixie's leaving right now to pick up. The greenery is free, plentiful, and easy to work with. Mrs. Belden and I will apply the roses as needed. Then we'll have the rehearsal and go to the rehearsal dinner. Jim, why don't you come with us? You can--"

Jim grinned. "I know. Anybody can green down. Thanks for the vote of confidence, but I just got home. I haven't even said hi to my dad and Margery. Just tell me where and when to show up. Loyola's church, I assume, but I don't know which one that is."

As she stomped down the stairs, Trixie yelled, "Dan was supposed to tell you everything."

Jim raised his voice. "He did. He said show up on Friday for rehearsal and dinner. If there's any more, you better make sure he knows it too."

Diana affected a sigh that would have made her drama teacher proud. "I'd better make sure Mart knows too."

Jim excused their boyfriends. "Studying for finals could have pushed it all out of their minds."

Diana didn't buy it. "We had finals too, you know. I don't think Honey's slept in three days. For the male contingent who've had more important things to think about than the first ever Bob- White wedding, rehearsal is at 5:30 at the Sleepyside Hospice Chapel."

"And dinner at the country club afterwards?" Jim asked, his eyebrows shooting up into his red hair that straggled over his forehead.

Diana giggled, losing her dramatic veneer and several years' sophistication. "Brian wanted to eat at Wimpy's. So we are. Honey, are you coming with us?"

Honey knelt down to examine the hem of the wedding dress. "In a bit. I have to see my parents too."

"If you're done working on the dress, I'll take everything to the chapel. Loyola can try them on there. The hospice provided us a dressing room, though you'd think it meant some poor dying person has to sleep outdoors, from the way Ms. Pearson acted. She's a real grouch, but everybody else is excited to have a happy occasion there for once. I've already taken Merry and Cherry's outfits and flower baskets. They were having way too much fun with them."

The girls fussed the wedding dress into a garment bag and tucked the hat tenderly into a box wide enough for an SUV tire. Diana left, even more burdened than when she arrived.

Honey covered her mouth in consternation. "If only she doesn't have a wreck. It feels so odd to let the dress out of my hands."

Jim reassured her, "Di's a good driver. But why is the wedding in the hospice chapel? It gives me a sense of impending doom."

Honey put her hands on her cheeks as though to force back the sudden bright color. "Jim, I'm so embarrassed. What I said about Brian--why they're getting married."

"It's what anyone would have thought. It's not like you published it in the Sleepyside Sun. I take it there's not a baby on the way? Loyola's not dying, is she?"

"Oh no! It's her grandfather. He has cancer, and just before Thanksgiving, his doctor stopped treatment, because it wasn't doing any good, and he--the doctor--gave him--Mr. Kevins--only a few months to live. She found out when she came home for Thanksgiving. Her grandfather was so distraught, not because he was dying, but because Loyola would be all alone, with no family. She and Brian started dating when they went back to school this fall--for them, that meant studying at the library together--and she called him on Saturday night after Thanksgiving. Remember when he went back to school right after our Friendsgiving to get a head start on studying for finals? She asked him if he'd marry her right away, so her grandfather could die in peace. Oh, and her grandfather wanted her to have a big wedding, not some quickie thing before a judge. She said they could break it off after her grandfather died. Brian said no, he wouldn’t deceive her grandfather like that, but he’d marry her and try to make it work, because he thought he really did love her, and she thought she loved him too, only this was so fast, you know? Then lots of tears, and Brian called the Beldens on Sunday morning, and Trixie called the meeting. That's when I found out the whole story. Loyola is taking off a semester to stay with her grandfather. The Bob-Whites, our parents, and some of the ladies from Mr. Kevins' church are doing all the arrangements because Loyola really doesn't have any other friends in Sleepyside besides Brian. She was always doing schoolwork, just like Brian." She swallowed hard. "I don't know why we didn't see how perfect they are for each other."

"Now I feel awful," said Jim, looking at the hardwood floor, the old wood polished to a golden glow. "I was so mad at Brian for the way he treated you and putting everyone in this horrible situation that I scarcely talked to him when he probably needed his friends more than ever."

Honey squeezed his arm. "Maybe not. Brian's way of coping is to study more. I don't know what he'll do when he isn't in school. Mrs. Belden asked him if Loyola was pregnant, and he said, 'Moms, we're science majors.' So I guess we shouldn't feel too bad, if his own mother assumed the worst." She dared a fleeting look at Jim and smiled.

"You've been doing penance by making Loyola's wedding gown these last three weeks. Me? Not so much."

Honey returned to her seat at the sewing machine. She made a show of winding thread and putting it in her sewing basket.

Jim followed and leaned against the table so that he could see her face. "As you told me weeks ago, it's not about her. Are you glad you did it? No matter what?"

Honey took a deep breath and met his eyes. "I am. It wasn't even too hard. I just put all the love I had for Brian into every stitch--and now I'm giving it to his wife. Does that make sense?" She looked down and ran her forefinger under one eye.

"Perfectly perfect sense," Jim assured her. He put an arm around her shoulder. "Why don't I drive you tonight? You can text me when you're ready to go--both to the rehearsal and from the dinner afterwards."

Honey's eyes danced as she rose to leave. "I'm sure I won't be ready until there's no danger of having to join the greening committee."

Jim laughed. "Appreciated! I tried to help with the junior prom decorations, and no one's asked me since. Di must have forgotten. Oh, and if it gets tough this weekend, just text me. Or whistle Bob-White!"

Honey gave him a quick hug. "I will. I'm so glad that's settled. I can always talk to you, even more so than Trixie. See you soon!"

#

Both Frayne and Wheeler parents were too involved with their own concerns to do more than greet their children. Jim and Honey arrived at the chapel with the floral decoration still in progress. Di and Mrs. Belden trusted Honey to help them place gigantic white roses among the dark green wreaths and ropes that hung on and around every possibility in the tiny chapel. Jim took over cutting the evergreen branches for Team B: Trixie, Bobby, Mart, Dan, and the two sets of Lynch twins. Six elderly dark- skinned ladies introduced themselves as "aunties" from the Kevins' church. They divided themselves between Team A Rose Placers and Team B Greeners, where they helped keep the young

helpers in line with firm affection. As they stopped Bobby, Terry, and Larry from whacking each other and the small girls with pine branches, Jim grinned, thinking again of his father's wedding in its calm simplicity.

One day early last summer Honey and Miss Trask announced that they were through sewing. The same day Win Frayne reserved their church's chapel and minister for the next Saturday. Miss Trask's brother picked up and delivered their sister that morning; wedding vows in front of Bob-White families, neighbors, and a few work friends took half an hour; and the Wheelers catered a brunch and reception at Manor House, with much less fuss than this cross between a three-ring circus and a rave.

A short woman descended on them. She looked like a five-foot tall refrigerator with a yapping silver poodle on top. "You're making a horrible mess! And the noise! There's sick people here, you know! I've no idea why you're allowed to bring in this spectacle."

Terry hunched his shoulders, like a turtle, and Merry's lip quivered. Larry and Cherry stuck their chins up, and Jim thought he could see steam coming out Trixie's ears. Honey had that bruised look on her face, full of hurt and disappointment that such awfulness existed in the world, but her next look would be Lady Madeleine of Wheeler, which boded no good for anyone. Jim grabbed a nearby broom and opened his mouth to diffuse the situation, when an ancient African-American man, hidden behind a pile of wreaths, spoke up from his lightweight walker-wheelchair. "Miz Pearson, this spectacle is my granddaughter's wedding, and these young people are surely making the place beautiful, all out of the goodness of their hearts."

"And we're cleaning it up," Jim added, giving the floor a few sweeps, revealing the floor as white, not green from all the needles and stems.

"We're going to add red carnations and red bows after the wedding so your holiday decorations will be all done," added Di with one of her trademark brilliant smiles, guaranteed to shut down all complaints.

Loyola and Brian walked in at that point with a coal-black man whose round white collar marked him as a priest. They crowded out Ms. Pearson, though everyone could hear her last words, "And be sure that floor is spotless before you leave!"

The minister put them through their paces quickly and dismissed them until the following afternoon. The only question was whether Mr. Kevins with his walker could escort his granddaughter down the aisle. Jim pitched in with Mart, Dan, and Brian to move the pews another foot out. Ms. Pearson gave them more grief, because now the far aisles were too narrow for the fire code, so the Bob-Whites slanted the pews to allow for equally wide aisles on all sides. It was a relief to repair to Wimpy's after the girls hustled Loyola away to try on her finery.

At Wimpy’s Jim asked how the fitting went as they gathered in Wimpy's back room, Honey said, her forehead creased in a worry line, "The dress fit, but I’m not sure she liked it much. She said the hat was better than anything she'd ever seen in her church, but she just stared at the dress, saying, 'I can't believe it.' Then she said at the end, 'I thought you'd just get a dress from Goodwill. They always have old wedding dresses.' Then Trixie--Trixie!--pointed out each and every little thing on the dress, saying how beautiful it was and how much effort it was, and Loyola finally said she appreciated it."

Jim thought it would be rude to scold the bride, so he turned his back on her and said to Honey, "You know how Loyola is. Sometimes she's awkward, a bit rough."

"She does look like she's in shock," Honey acknowledged. "She's had so much to deal with."

Jim held out a chair for Honey, but she said she’d promised Diana and Helen Belden that she’d sit between Bobby Belden and Larry Lynch, both her adoring fans. Jim took a seat by Trixie, across from the bride and groom.

Loyola looked thinner than he remembered. Her river-brown eyes were big as soup bowls over her pinched cheeks. Her rich brown skin had grayish undertones. She and Brian stood with an arm around each other's waist, holding each other up. She had eyes only for her grandfather, as she guided him to his chair and encouraged him to eat. Brian had eyes only for her. Throughout the meal, he touched her arm or whispered in her ear. She then would take a bite of food, though she never seemed to make much headway. When most people had finished their meals, Brian declared everyone would have pie, despite Loyola's objections that she couldn't eat another bite. He then fed her bits of chocolate-peppermint pie with a flirt of a kiss between each bite. Her grandfather needed no such encouragement, and wolfed down the blackberry cobbler that was Wimpy's specialty.

Jim was glad to see the older man so happy and Brian so concerned about the bride so hastily thrust upon him. Jim looked down to the other end of the table where Honey skillfully managed Bobby and Larry. Diana had roped Mart into sitting with her, her other brother, and two sisters. Jim smiled. Di's devotion to her family was one of the things that made her something besides the air-headed actress many assumed her to be. She kept that façade firmly in place most of the time, but not with the Bob-Whites.

After taking home a bright-eyed Honey who assured him that she was fine, really, Jim lay awake, wondering what he would do in Brian's position. He hoped he'd be as generous and brave. From the bits he heard from other people, Brian would continue at school while Loyola remained in Sleepyside with her grandfather. She might take one course at Sleepyside Junior College and work a few hours each week as an intern at the Hudson River Research Institute. Jim hoped that at least a little bit of study and work would help keep her sane. Brian would come down most weekends. The Bob-Whites, individually and collectively, had shown courage in emergencies, but that was different from the quiet strength now demanded of Brian and his bride. As Jim fell asleep, he vowed to do whatever he could--whatever that was--to make Brian's life easier.

The next day the girls and mothers went to brunch at Manor House before turning themselves over to Madeleine Wheeler's army of stylists. Jim planned to take a shower half an hour before he was supposed to be at the chapel in his tux. Being a guy was less complicated. He was glad his only extra decoration was the seahorse boutonnier.

#

Jim caught his breath from his position by the altar as Honey walked down the aisle. He'd seen her with celebrity makeup, an updo, and a long formal before. Still, she seemed to have grown in grace and beauty just since Thanksgiving, never mind over the years. He tried not to laugh at the thought of the pale, sickly thirteen-year-old he'd met so long ago.

They made it through the ceremony with no one falling down or losing rings, though Ms. Pearson stood at the back scowling and looking like she'd like to shush the gospel choir. But everyone, including all the hospice inmates, swayed, tapped, and sang along to the music.

The reception was a potluck dinner in the hospice dining room. Four of Loyola's aunties and Helen Belden brought Brian's favorite Waldorf salad. Loyola promised she'd had nothing to do with any of them as she placed a scoop of each on Brian's plate. Everyone who knew how she'd accidentally poisoned Brian in high school with her Waldorf salad laughed

One side of the room was covered in windows, showing the guests a winter sunset more beautiful than any decorations. As honor attendants, Mart and Trixie gave team-tagged speeches that made the guests laugh. The dance floor and the dance combo were small--and Ms. Pearson made sure the instruments were as muted as possible--but people enjoyed themselves. Jim felt a lump in his throat as Loyola danced with her grandfather, his rolling walker between them, her hands covering his. Jim's first dance was with Honey, as her partner in the wedding party. Was his imagination that she stayed nestled in his arms longer than necessary after the music stopped? 

When Dan walked over to claim her, she raised her head from Jim's shoulder and said, "Why don't we dance with the hospice guests first, before they get too tired? We can always dance with each other." Dan laughed as he turned away. "Rain check, then."

Jim laughed too and scanned the room. He chose a white-haired lady perched on the edge of her chair as she gazed longingly at the dance floor. Though her flesh seemed to have melted away to just toothpick-thick bones and her skin thinned to transparency, she hopped to her feet and leaned into his arms.

"My husband and I danced to this song at our wedding. He had red hair too," she murmured as the band swung into a slow foxtrot, "If I Had a Million Dollars." They were doing a good job of playing to an audience with a range of over 50 years and varying abilities.

Ms. Pearson bustled over, full of spoil-sporting concern and a fierce glare for Jim. "Mrs. Levalieux, you have to be careful. Young people are so thoughtless."

Jim's partner closed her eyes as she sank into his arms. "You sound like my mother. That's not a good thing, Ms. Pearson. I am going to relive the happiest day of my life, courtesy of this handsome young man, and I don't care if I fall down dead afterwards. You can tell my children I said so."

Jim smiled as he guided her away from the pest. "I'll hold her tight, Ms. Pearson."

"Oh yes! So strong, just like my Jacques." Mrs. Levalieux sighed and closed her eyes.

He then worked through more hospice patients and all the women he was expected to dance with, teasing Trixie about how her fascinator had grown. Frustrated with Trixie's short curls, the stylist added pearls, glitter, and wiggly things that looked like coral and seaweed. Trixie glowered at him before breaking into giggles.

At the end of their dance, two of the aunties wheeled in a small table topped with a luscious, multitiered cake topped by a white doctor and an Af-Am mermaid in a lab coat. As the aroma of butter and sugar filled the room, word went around that there would be one more dance before the cake cutting. Jim looked for Honey and saw her slip outside to the patio beyond the window-wall. Night had fallen, making it hard to see in the dim patio lights. He wound through the maze of shoulder-high shrubbery and found her on a bench in one of the maze pockets that gave an illusion of privacy. He took off his jacket and set it around her slumping shoulders, shivering despite her gold lamé evening cape. He left his hands on her shoulders, just to comfort her. Or keep her warm, he told himself.

"I just couldn't...Brian was going to ask me to dance...I was the last of the wedding party...I saw him walking across the room toward me...I’m happy for him, I really am, but...I just couldn't..." She pressed her face against Jim's gold cummerbund. What light there was glinted on her hair and matching cape. He put his arms around her, still just for comfort and warmth, of course. Maybe by spring break he could take her to a movie at the Cameo, just the two of them, instead of a Bob-White group date. He could hold her hand during the show, if she didn't mind. And then he'd just keep hold of her hand on the way back to his car or to Wimpy's for a bite. He could kiss her on the cheek as they said good-night. Maybe she'd then turn into him for a deeper kiss. Surely by then she'd be over Brian enough to think about a new relationship.

Honey leapt to her feet. She threw her arms around him as she flattened her lips and body against him, which interrupted his thoughts. His lips and hands answered hers until he broke away with a gasp and folded his arms around her like a straight jacket. He held her tight against his chest and swayed from side to side. He could see his breath as clouds in the biting cold air and feel hers warm against his chest. What could he say that wouldn’t sound like rejection? "Not...the time...or the place," he managed, hoping it was enough.

She tilted her head and whispered in his ear, "I just want something else to think about besides Brian."

He stepped back to touch her chin as he looked into her eyes. He kissed the shining rivers on her cheeks, the curls escaping from the neat twist, her earlobes with their tiny diamond studs. "I hope it helped. Honey, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, except something that would hurt you."

She pushed away and covered her face with her hands.

Just then the patio door opened. They had a few seconds to smooth themselves into respectability before Margery found them.

She said, "Aren't you cold out here? It's going to snow tonight. The residents are going to bed soon, and the administration wants us out. So most people are going to the country club for a few more drinks, but your father and I are going home. He's tired."

Honey brushed back a wayward lock.

"Okay. We'll probably go to the country club," said Jim, with chattering teeth.

Honey handed his coat back to him. Margery smiled but didn't wait.

"Can you stand going back in?" asked Jim. "You can sneak off to the restroom and repair the damage first."

Honey brushed her hair back again. Then she jumped as a shriek cut through the night. "Was that a cat?"

Another screech, even louder, confirmed her guess. Barking dogs coming nearer and nearer told the reason. Honey ran toward them through the twisting paths.

"Honey!" shouted Jim as he ran after her.

The cat took refuge under a prickly holly shrub. The three dogs were determined to dig her out. Honey stripped off her cape and waved it like a bullfighter in the ring. The dogs fell back. They snapped, lunging all too close to the girl, who stamped her feet and scolded.

Jim scooped up a quick snowball and pelted the biggest dog, a boxer mix. It yelped and looked around. Jim scooped up more snow and threw another missile.

He yelled over Honey's shouting, "Honey, get away from them. They'll bite!"

"They can get away from me! And this poor cat," she screamed as she snapped her cloak like a gym towel.

She wasn't aiming, but the cloak's edge caught the alpha dog and sent him squealing away as another snowball hit his ribs. Jim tried to get between her and the dogs, but she kept advancing and swinging her cape with vicious snaps. Annoyed that he couldn't rescue her, he pitched two more snow balls at the undecided followers. They gave up and bounded after the leader.

Rucking her dress high, Honey dropped to her knees in front of the snow-covered shrub where the cat hid. While she crooned comfort over the hisses, Jim squatted and draped the cloak she'd abandoned over her shoulders. He murmured, "That was crazy, and I love you for it." Too soon?

It wasn't, or maybe Honey just took it as regular old Bob- White love. She pressed her cheek against his hand. "Your hands are so cold, after all those snowballs. Oh, there's blood on her fur! Here, kitty, kitty." She held out her hand, fingers curled so as not to scare the cat even more. Honey continued her soft words.

Jim had heard her talk to her horses like that. "Careful. She could bite you too."

"She wouldn't do that. She's a sweet kitty. Aren't you? We need to get her wounds seen." Honey inched forward. The cat gave a weak growl, but her heart wasn't in it.

As Honey crept further into the bush, she pulled off her cape. Soon she wriggled back out, this time holding the black and gold cat wrapped in her cape. The cat was quiet, but her green eyes were crazy with fear and pain. "She's hurt," said Honey as she marched back into the reception room.

Realizing that he couldn't deter her, Jim followed close behind.

The other Bob-Whites were back at the wedding party table and eating cake. Diana exclaimed, "Honey! What happened? You look like you were dragged backwards through a bush."

She did. The delicate tissue of her dress was mussed, torn at the waist, wet and dirty below the knees. Leaves, green and brown, accented both dress and hair, which straggled and stuck out from the sad remains of its twist. The coral in her fascinator jutted out in all directions, looking more like an alien invasion, with the seahorse and angel fish the first victims. Surreptitiously wiping his face, Jim was glad Honey's face was smeared with too much dirt for anyone to see the wreckage of her makeup. He hoped he wasn't wearing half of it.

Honey explained, "Yes, that's how it was. I mean, not dragged. I crawled under the bush, I mean, to get this poor cat, and then I had to back out."

"Besides fighting off a pack of dogs," added Jim, to add some sound to the utter quiet that blanketed the room.

Honey marched up to Brian. "She's hurt. Can you help her?"

Brian pushed his cake towards his bride and wiped his hands on a white cloth napkin. He met Honey's eyes as he said, "Let's see."

As Jim pulled up a chair for Honey, she pulled back the cape’s folds. Dr. Morgan, the Beldens' vet, appeared from the crowd and said, "I'll take this one, Brian. I've already been bitten once today when I looked in on my patients before coming here."

As Honey shifted to include him in the group, the cat shot up with a scream. She scrambled across the table and sent glasses and plates flying. Everyone grabbing glassware and shouting sent her running faster, out of sight, as the rest of the guests surged towards the table. The room went from astonished silence tofootball-game wild.

Over the din, a voice blared like a megaphone. "We cannot have this kind of hullabaloo in a medical facility. You people have been nothing but trouble, and so I warned the director. Our patients deserve a better last Christmas than this. You, the one who brought in the cat. Get out now! If you don't know any better than to tumble around on the ground with animals, you can just get out and stay out! You are banned from this facility."

Honey slumped, as though she were thirteen again. But as Jim started toward her, she pulled her shoulders back and tilted her chin. "I'm sorry to have disturbed...anyone who was disturbed," she said in her deepest voice, woven with sarcasm. "As soon as I find the cat, I'll go."

Jim looked around the room. He headed for the only place in the room where a cat could hide: under the buffet table, with its floor-length table cloth.

"Don't!" Little Merry Lynch jumped in front of him and waved her arms over her head. "You'll scare the kitty. Cherry has her under the table."

Sure enough, when Jim twitched the table cloth enough to get a good look underneath, Cherry held the motley cat in her lap. She stroked and murmured like Honey had. Jim could hear purring over all the noise around him. He dropped the edge of the table cloth to cover the girl and cat once more.

"That looks like Mrs. Cardenas' cat," said Mr. Kevins, right behind Jim. His thin voice somehow stopped all conversations. "She was so sad when her kitty got outside and ran away. Would you two girls like come with me to bring Patches back to her?"

"Oh," said Merry, drooping. "We wanted to keep her. Mama said we could have a cat for Christmas."

"We'll get you a dear little kitten," promised Diana, wiggling her eyebrows in conversation with her mother.

Cherry scooted from under the table with Patches still in her arms. "We want this kitty. She needs us."

As everyone in the room looked away, Mr. Kevins leaned close to Merry and said, "Mrs. Cardenas would be happy to hear that. Maybe you and your sister could come over after school and help her take care of Patches until she's ready to go home with you."

"I'll drive you every day," said Diana, giving him a grateful look. "If Mother says it's okay. And if you two are sure this is the kitty you want."

"Yes," said Merry and Cherry in chorus.

The Lynch daughters looked across the room at their mother, who nodded with a slight, incredulous smile.

"Yes then," said Diana in a quavering voice. "Let's go see Mrs. Cardenas."

After a beat, Honey whirled as she put on her cape, now crinkled, bloody, and grubby. "Brian and Loyola, best wishes. Good-night, friends." She gave Ms. Pearson a hard look as she said, "I won't trouble you any longer or ever again."

With her dress shimmering and whirling around her ankles, she stalked toward the door.

"Wait, Honey!" With the pearls on her braids softly clacking, Loyola ran after her. "I didn't tell you how beautiful this dress is, how much I love it. I just couldn't believe how much work you put in to make something so meaningful for me. No one's made clothes for me since my granny died."

Mr. Kevins looked up from his low conversation with Dr. Morgan and the Lynch girls. "Your granny worked so hard on your dresses, all those little fiddly gathers--smocking, she called it. Only way she'd stop long enough to watch TV with me was if she was making a dress for you."

"She just worked hard, period, going out to her job every day until she was seventy-five." Loyola dabbed the side of her eyes with her lace glove. "And she'd sew pictures of fish and other sea creatures on my dresses because I loved the water even when I was small. And then to see this dress you made for me--I thought I'd die. I couldn't believe it, that you knew exactly what to do and spent all that time doing it. I hope your grades didn't suffer."

Blazing red, Honey murmured, "Everybody helped sew after I had it designed. Oh, don't hug me! I'm all dirty."

They compromised with arms around each other's shoulders and air kisses. Honey broke free first and after a smile to the room that did not include Ms. Pearson, she walked out of the room, down the hall towards the main entrance.

Jim called as he took brisk, long strides after her, "I'll drive you home."

Honey's parents met her at the entrance. Madeleine Wheeler said, "We're hosting the gathering at the country club, but one of us can come with you, if you'd rather go home."

Honey shook her head hard. The seahorse wobbled. "I just want to be alone and go to bed. Jim can drive me. His parents have already gone home."

Madeleine kissed her daughter's forehead. "You worked so hard these last few weeks. I know how difficult it was, and I've been so proud of you. Don't let this person ruin it." She directed a searing look, fiercer than a basilisk, back towards Ms. Pearson, hovering far behind to make sure Honey left. Lady Madeleine of Wheeler couldn't compare to Queen Madeleine of Everything.

#

Jim followed the Wheelers into the parking lot. Both Mr. and Mrs. Wheeler gave their daughter quick hugs before climbing into their Mercedes. After Jim tucked Honey into the front seat of his more modest car, she wilted and covered her face with her hands.

"I can't believe I've been banned from a hospice," she mumbled.

"That just means you can never die," he retorted.

Honey tried to sob, laugh, and snort all at once. "Oh, Jim, how could I? But how could I not?"

"How could you not?" he agreed. "Don't worry. Everyone loves a good wedding story. And your father could hardly keep from laughing."

"Really? Mother was so nice and understanding. I just hope she doesn't start in tomorrow about what I could have done instead." Honey put her hands down and straightened her spine. "And you know what? We didn't get any cake!"

"We can fix that," Jim answered, swinging the car into a drive-through ice cream stand, one of the new chain restaurants creeping among Sleepyside's homegrown businesses like invasive vines. "What's the point of going to a wedding if you don't get cake?"

After he ordered two cookie-cakes topped with ice cream, he pulled into a parking space so they could eat. He left the car running to keep warm. The first snowflakes drifted down, disintegrating when they hit the windshield, where they ran like tears.

He was concentrating on not covering his upholstery in melting ice cream when Honey spoke, her voice quavering from high to low.

"I don’t know what you must think of me. Do you think someone spiked the punch?" She was close to tears.

He set his and Honey’s desserts on the dashboard before she could tip hers into her lap. She twisted her hands and looked at him like the terrified thirteen-year-old she used to be.

Jim brushed her cheek with the lightest of kisses. "What must I think of you? Just what I’ve always thought of you, that you’re loving, compassionate, sweet, smart, talented, and beautiful. I think you’ve been so noble for so long that breaking down was inevitable. I’m glad you grabbed me instead of some random wedding guest."

"Oh, Jim! I could never do that! Not with some random wedding guest! Not with anybody but...you!" Her eyes widened and her voice trailed off, as though a new idea struck her.

He struggled to keep his voice even. "I’m glad to hear that. It would be my dream come true, but I didn’t want you in my arms because your ex got married."

Her head and shoulders drooped. "I was using you, wasn’t I? And it wasn’t even because I loved him. I don’t, not that way, and I’ve known that for months. But when he picked her instead of me..." Her words were thick with sorrow.

"Sometimes friends use each other. And friends let them." He wanted to take her in his arms so badly that he pressed his back hard against the car door, lumpy and cold, despite the heater’s efforts.

She extracted a tissue and blew her nose louder than the trombone in the wedding band. "You do understand."

Jim swallowed, wishing the sugary smell of their treats wasn’t so strong. "I try. It’s hard when someone picks someone else besides you. They even make movies about it, you know."

"Funny movies. I am never watching one again." Honey unclenched her hands and let her knees relax two inches. "Everybody is coupling up and falling in love. Do you think I ever will?" Her voice was forlorn, like the song of a winter bird.

Jim swallowed hard. "Sure. Someday."

Honey looked out the window. "Really? Because I never have, even when I thought I loved Brian. I was just...scared. Scared as I was when I was thirteen, of everything and everybody. What if I never get over it?"

"Seventeen's a little soon to give up. Maybe you'll want to wait until your wedding day. That might be soon; it might be later. Look at Miss Trask. Like I said, the important thing is to wait until you're ready--nobody else but you. Promise?"

She gave one quick nod and looked down, but she shot him that speculative gaze.

He couldn't think of anything else to say. He wanted to tell her how much he loved her, but she clearly wasn’t ready. Maybe spring break was too soon for a first date. They’d go to the prom as friends, a word he was starting to hate. Maybe she needed to get settled in college first. He sighed as he started the car and drove into the night, away from the lights of town. Maybe he just wasn’t her type. As he took the last curve on Glen Road, he could see Manor House looming ahead. He hated to leave her, small and alone, in that vast, vaguely threatening pile. He couldn’t leave her there in her grief.

The words burst out of him. "Let me take you to Ten Acres. Who knows when your parents will get home?"

She flashed him a smile when he glanced at her. "It's okay. Mother gets upset when they're in town and I spend the night at Ten Acres. She and Daddy will be here when I wake up. I don’t mind being alone."

He sighed and turned into the driveway. At least he'd get some sleep with her in her bed at home rather than two doors away.

The mansion looked even more like a haunted house up close. Sure, there were lights along the driveway and a light over the door, but they scarcely penetrated the night's winter gloom and the drifting snowflakes. After he stopped the car, he rushed around to open her door.

She clutched his hand as she got out. "Jim? Go with me to Di’s New Year’s party, please. As my date? Really my date?"

She ran to the door before he got over his surprise enough to call after her, "Sure."

By that time, the door was closing.

Jim stepped and took a deep breath, enjoying the evergreen and fresh snow scents as he listened for sounds that all was well in Manor House. All he heard were Honey's words to herself, "I'm glad that's settled."

He looked up at the night sky. He received a mouthful of stinging snowflakes as he grinned wide enough to hurt his face. Before getting back in his car, he scuffed through the new fallen snow on the lawn, where his old message had been. If the snow continued through the night, she wouldn't see his handiwork, or rather, footwork, which would be best, but he couldn't help leaving another message:

I ❤U


End file.
